Using Him
by x-fuse2
Summary: A deeper look at a woman Dean picks up in a bar.


Using Him

By x-fuse

Disclaimer: Dean or Supernatural is not mine. Please don't sue me for I have nothing but lint and dust bunnies.

Archive: No

Feedback: Please

Author's Notes: This is not beta. It is also a companion piece for Definitely Dangerous.

It had been a crappy day, a crappy week. Hell it had been a crappy month. Standing here hitting balls, taking money from some loser was about the only way she was dealing right now. It was either that or go back to her cold apartment, that she still hadn't managed to completely furnished after two years of living there, and think. If she did that she might end up putting her gun in her mouth and pulling the trigger. Even worse was knowing that it wasn't the first time she thought about it. Wasn't the first time she came close. Where the hell did the excited woman who wanted to work in the big time BAU go? She certainly wasn't her anymore.

She sunk another ball, won another game. She smiled at the man across the table and took his money. Money she didn't need because she never really had time to spend her salary; never mind the money she made from playing pool. It all went into a jar in her kitchen. Which wasn't the smartest thing because everyone knew to check the cookie jar if you robbed a place. The fact was that she didn't care. She counted it a couple of months ago when she was trying not to think about things she shouldn't. She had over eight thousand there. When she first started putting money in the jar she told herself it was her vacation money. She could take a trip to Italy. She hadn't been to Italy in a long time. Then she called her retirement jar. Now, she no longer thought about retiring to somewhere along the Italian countryside. She wouldn't spoil the beauty of it by being there. She was too damn dark inside.

It wasn't working. Damn, she needed something more than a pool game to keep the darkness away tonight. Some anonymous stranger, a couple of hours fucking in some motel room to keep images of dead little girls, raped, beaten and broken.

The door opened. She looked up. No immediate danger. She went back to playing pool. Trying not to think about what she was. What she had seen. Just focusing on the pool table in front or the man beside her. She had briefly considering asking him back to a room. No, he was a little too accountant. What was the use of going to a bar if there wasn't a pool table there and a motel close by. In the beginning she never realized that. She made mistakes. Took one back to her place. He came back a few weeks later wanted to fuck. When she said no, he kicked up a fuss. She had to pull her gun on him. He never came back. She never took anyone else home.

Oh yes, she was in the big times, something she had wanted, actually worked for, a BAU profiler for serious and violent crimes. What a stupid idiot she was. She should had been satisfied not knowing what happened in the dark, in the light, even in pretty little communities. White picket fences and small town picnics don't keep monsters away. The monsters live right next door, most of the time. Those were always harder to deal with. They were so unexpected. Now she knew and she couldn't go back. That genie was out of the fucking bottle. She couldn't quit. She tired that once before but it was worse knowing what was out there and not doing anything about it. This was her life. It was what she was going to do until she finally stayed in her apartment one nightand pulled that trigger or someone she chased did it for her.

Or it could be one of the random strangers she met in a bar and went wherever with. It was dangerous. It was probably part of the reason why she did it. That, along with knowing that she wouldn't see him again afterwards. As long as the movie stopped playing for a while, she would keep doing it. She had tried drinking. It didn't help. Drinking actually had made it worse. All the images and movies seem to play on a continuous loop. She stopped drinking. Drugs, she wouldn't try. She couldn't try. They scared her too much. Way too many side effects, way too many chances of being out of control. If she lost control she didn't know what she would do. She had way too many dreams of blowing someone's brains out for what they had done.

Someone was watching her. He had been for a while. That wasn't anything new. She was good looking, had a great body. He was different. He took in the whole room. Most men in here just looked at the women. Most just looked at certain parts of a woman. He did that to but he took it all in. She wasn't sure how she knew, instinct maybe. He was like her, maybe. She looked up at him and smirked. He smirked back. Maybe she wouldn't go home tonight and see how her gun would taste.

He was good looking. A little younger than she usually went with, still he was her type. The type that you went to motel rooms with. She didn't think she had another type anymore. Not the ones you introduce to family and friends. Not that she really had either. There were some cousins or whatever that she never really spoke to but got Christmas cards from. As for friends, they were hard to keep when you couldn't show up at events. When you get called away in the middle of wedding and christenings. Forget about making lunches or dinners when you were on call twenty four/seven. You didn't get to keep many plans. They said they understood and they probably did. It just that after so many missed events they started planning things without adding you in. Slowly you fade away from their lives.

He was walking over.

"How much?" he asked.

"Forty," she replied pulling two twenties from her front pocket. She had no idea how much money she had won tonight. She had been on automatic since she got here.

He took two twenties out of his pocket and held them up. She took them along with her two and placed them under an empty bottle of beer.

He was good, better than her. Hours spent shooting everything at the gun range had perfected her shot and helped her pool game. More hours spent at the pool table so she wouldn't go back to an empty apartment helped even more. He was really good. She briefly wondered how he got as good as he was. She watched him, took in his movement, how he played. She watched how he moved. What he did when he moved. He watched everything. He watched the bar without making it noticeable. He watched her, that was noticeable.

He won the first game.

He was a breast man. Shove a D cup in any guys face and he would look. It was the when they didn't stop looking even when your ass was up against them gave him away. She excused herself and went into the bathroom. Time to use them to her best advantage.

She won the second game.

Somehow or someway he stopped looking and concentrated on his game. He won the last one.

"So what do we do now, play another game or go back to my room?" he grinned.

The grin made him look even more good looking and so much more younger. That was until you looked in his eyes. Those were old. Those had seen much. Had probably done much too. Maybe cop or military? Military.

"Your room," she answered.

Ten minutes later they were in his room. Mouth, hands frantically moving, trying to get closer, pushing the movie that was running in her head away. Hands removing clothes not caring about where they dropped or what condition they dropped in. Condom found, opened, on.

Naked on the bed not caring how fast or hard they moved. Mouth sucking, biting. Release, relax, movie gone for a moment.

Maybe ten minutes later movie is starting to play again. Time for another round. Another position, using him to push the images, the movie away.

She lies exhausted beside him. He looks at her and grins, she grins back.

A phone rings.

He reaches for his pants. "It's not mine."

She had known it was hers as soon as it rang. She reaches for her purse. Somehow in the frenzied moments of undressing she had managed to put her purse on the table by the bed.

She flips the phone open. "Yes."

"_You're needed back. We have a case."_

"Ok."

"_Can you get here in a hour? We need to leave right away."_

"Thirty minutes, forty at the most." She hung up.

"I have to go."

"Sure," he replied. He was staring at her purse, at her gun and badge more specifically.

It was awkward. It was always awkward when they saw it. It was like she should know better and she should.

She pulled on her clothes; a shower would have to wait until… who knows when.

"It's been fun…"

"James," he supplied his name.

"James, I gotta go."

"It's too bad," he grinned.

"Yeah, well evil doesn't do nine to five," she smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. She opened the door and left.

Author Note: I was sitting in a coffee shop and had just finished writing Definitely Dangerous when I 'heard' the girl's side of the story. So sitting there with about a quarter of a cup of coffee left I let my mind play with the idea. By the time I finished my coffee I had it. I had the scenes. I had the tone. I even had most of the internal conversation. I had everything mapped out.

That night I was watching an ep of Criminal Minds. It was about a serial killer who believed in Satan. Near the end of the ep two profilers were talking. And somehow it came back to my fic. It just fit so perfectly.

"_Do you think it's possible that Feylinn…_ _I don't know, that he was getting some kind of help. From something else."_

"_It's irrelevant. The job is to find evil. To stop it. Not to know where it came from. Let someone else take that job. This one's tough enough._


End file.
